


Fracture

by TeelLilies



Series: Break [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, But Not Much, Gen, Hanzo Shimada Needs a Hug, Hanzo Shimada continues to be a disaster, Hanzo's usual depression shit, He's really just doing his best, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Referenced Alcoholism, Some Humor, Stress Relief, Sweet Jesse McCree, This gets a little dark in the beginning, Unsafe Sex, could bee seen as suicidal thoughts but not really, slight mentions of things that could be considered gore, so is hanzo, there's talk about decaying and bones so, thoughts of death for sure, which isn't the best way to do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 21:10:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15373380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeelLilies/pseuds/TeelLilies
Summary: Hanzo has been adrift in the wake of his brother's death, struggling to find a foothold in his own life. And failing miserably. Perhaps he can't find his way on his own, but for once maybe he can let himself slow down long enough to keep some company.





	Fracture

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so I don't know why, but this series is always how I break my writer's block. No matter what.   
> Anyhow, here's some more of Hanzo being a disaster, with added McCree. There's gonna be more plot after this, and more of them talking, but this is all I could muster for now, and it kind off fits in the length that I like to keep this series.

Hanzo found his first shred of solace in half-burnt cheap diner coffee and the warm smile of a waitress obviously tired from a graveyard shift. 

The diner was empty save for Hanzo hunched half over his mug of coffee and the pad he was reading the news on. It wasn’t a large place, and it was older, shabby. Obviously somewhere only kept in business thanks to the locals’ nostalgia and not actual practicality or quality of service. The paint was scuffed off the walls in some places, and the stool Hanzo had seated himself on squeaked every time he shifted his weight. 

But it was quiet, and after the waitress had brought him a mug of coffee, she’d left him alone. So Hanzo wasn’t protesting to the atmosphere. It was better than sitting alone in a dark motel room waiting for the next headhunter to come for him. 

Tired eyes scanned the blue glow of the pad he held as he checked across the trail of bodies he’d left. Some of the deaths were in the news. Others were kept silent, he assumed it was to avoid panic amongst allies, to keep a sense of security or something of the sort. Hanzo understood why such organizations would want to keep that information under wraps, it was the same reason his father had always had a guard with him. People feared the power struggle that came with an open title and nobody in line to take it. 

Power struggles like that- Hanzo had realized, since he’d left his home- were futile in their nature. He’d come to question why people longed for power to the point of killing each other over it, when they died they were all equal. 

And most of those he had his sights would die choking on an arrow if Hanzo had any say in the matter. 

He only looked up from his tablet when the waitress popped out of the kitchen with a fresh pot of coffee in hand. She approached him with a tired smile and a raised eyebrow. 

“Want a refill hon? On the house.” She offered, causing Hanzo to glance down at his mostly empty mug. The cheap coffee had been doing wonders against the lingering threads of a hangover. And he ended up giving a slight nod before sitting back on his stool slightly. 

He offered the woman a quiet thanks before she vanished back into the kitchen once more. The sound of voices could be heard faintly, obviously she was speaking with the cook. But he paid them no more than half an ear. Their conversation seemed to consist mostly of something to do with the cook’s daughter so Hanzo had no interest in such a thing. Instead he turned his eyes back to what he was reading. It didn’t seem like any of the organizations were pointing fingers at him in public. But that didn’t mean they didn’t know him, and that didn’t mean he was safe by any stretch. It just meant he didn’t need to worry about the American government. 

Hanzo set his tablet down with a sigh, running his face over his hands. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so alone. In the middle of nowhere no less. So truly, if he died somewhere in the area he was sure nobody would even notice. Perhaps if his body was dumped in the forest somewhere, animals would carry parts of him off until there was nothing of him left. His bones would be scattered across the woods, lain under trees for roots to grow around them. Maybe flowers would spring from his ribcage and for once he’d contribute something beautiful to the world. 

The nonsensical thoughts were brushed away when the chime of the bell above the diner’s front door pulled him out of his own head. 

For what felt like hours the diner had been empty save for Hanzo and the staff, but the man that stepped through the door caught Hanzo’s eye for half a moment. If only because he wasn’t expecting to see anyone else up at four thirty in the morning. He hadn’t slept himself but perhaps the man truly was getting an early start. 

He was otherwise unremarkable though. He appeared as tired as anyone else taking residence in the diner at that current moment. And seemed to be dressed in such a way that was to be expected from a local to the area. Or just generally to any rural part of America, Hanzo supposed. The only thing about the man that caught his eye was the way the other man’s gaze caught on him briefly. 

Hanzo pulled his eyes away immediately, set on edge by the other man’s look. He didn’t like people paying attention to him whatsoever. It never went well for him. Perhaps the man was another bounty hunter sent after him?

After another glance at the other man Hanzo decided that likely wasn’t it. He looked strong but he also didn’t look threatening in the slightest. And he hadn’t looked back to the archer after that cursory glance. 

Hanzo knew he was paranoid. But he had to be. He’d been hunted for the past several months. He had to be on his toes more than ever in those last few weeks. Though he hoped to escape most of that while he was deep into the middle of nowhere, thinking about his own corpse rotting somewhere in the woods and trying to get enough of a handle on himself that he could head towards his next target. 

He ignored the man as the waitress spoke with him, not listening to their quiet conversation, save for the warm laugh the man gave at something the waitress said. That much had his gaze flickering up in time to see the shadow of a bright smile pass across the man’s face. He seemed to be something of a morning person, tired but already awake at such an early hour. Hanzo couldn’t help but wonder why. Though he just dropped his eyes once more and instead picked up his tablet again to check national news. 

It was a solid ten minutes later when Hanzo was startled out of his reading by the sound of the man’s voice. 

“Pardon me for askin’ but you ain’t from around here are you?” 

Hanzo looked up from his pad with a scowl, annoyed with having been interrupted by anything. Let alone a question from the man who’s eyes were still on him. It took him a moment of eyeing the other man to discern if he was serious. And upon doing that his scowl depened. 

“No, I am not.” He muttered, just loud enough to be heard before he dropped his eyes back to the article he was reading, and how it chronicled some politician’s escapade with a secretary or something of the sort. But he wasn’t given any peace after that, instead he bristled visibly when the next question came. 

“So what brings you ‘round here then? This ain’t exactly a tourist’s spot. This town ain’t much in the way of anything to be honest.” The man apparently wasn’t done inquiring about his origins or what he was doing. Which only served to annoy him further, didn’t the man have any respect for privacy? Or just general decency to not interrogate someone who was very obviously unamused with being questioned. 

“Traveling.” Hanzo replied gruffly, only sparing the other man a look over the pad he held. But he didn’t hold the other man’s gaze. Instead he tried to go back to reading, doing his best to show how violently disinterested in the conversation he truly was. Or rather the other man’s questions. It wasn’t much of a real conversation. 

“Where’re you headed then?” Hanzo grit his teeth at that, shooting the other man a barely restrained glare as he forced himself to at least feign some shred of politeness. He was considering leaving, he’d been enjoying the quiet. Was it really so hard to ask for just a few moments of peace and quiet? He supposed he didn’t really deserve it, the universe didn’t have anything to offer him when he’d done it no good in his time. But it would have been nice if he could have just one respite from the hell the rest of his life had become. 

Instead he tossed his pad to the counter, and instead picked up his mug to cradle it in his hands quietly. 

“Why do you ask?” His tone was very obviously cold. But Hanzo couldn’t find it in himself to actually care about his attitude towards the stranger that had suddenly decided to make unwanted small talk. Perhaps Hanzo should have held on to some of the people skills that had been forced upon him by the clan. But he’d long since abandoned the persona of the put-together clan heir that he’d once been expected to uphold. Instead he’d reverted into someone he didn’t even recognize. 

If only Genji could see him, holed up in a shabby diner snapping at a man who was just trying to make conversation. Fighting an ever-lingering migraine. His brother would be so disappointed. And not in the same way his father would be. Hanzo knew Genji would be upset at how far he’d fallen, how he’d spiraled out of any sense of control. And maybe that was what hurt the most, knowing that Genji would still be sympathetic with Hanzo’s swiftly decaying mental state. But he was gone, Hanzo had skewered his endlessly understanding brother on the blade of a semi-blunt practice sword and left Genji bleeding on the floor of the dojo. 

“Curious is all, again, you don’t look like any of the locals.” The man caught Hanzo’s attention again, and when Hanzo’s eyes met the stranger’s he was met with a look of concern that was quickly banished in favor of a lopsided half-smile and a shrug. 

“I get travel though, long haul trucker.” He offered, lifting his own mug of coffee in a mock toast to Hanzo. The Shimada scowled faintly at that, taking a sip of his own coffee. After the first mug he’d grown used to the acrid undertones of it, and it only made him grimace slightly at that point. 

The information about the other man was interesting though. Hanzo had never met someone who had such an odd job. He knew the basis of what a trucker was. But he supposed he hadn’t expected someone like the stranger he spoke with the be a candidate for such an occupation. He expected someone… older, less fit perhaps. 

“You headin’ anywhere in particular though? Or just driftin’?” The man spoke again before Hanzo could formulate a response to the new information. Hanzo watched as the man took a long sip of his coffee before setting the mug back on the counter with a quiet clack. 

He debated whether or not he wanted to answer the man. He had no reason to. But he didn’t have any reason not to either. It was just a matter of if he trusted the man. Of course he knew he could take the man in a fight. Unless he was more muscular than he looked, Hanzo was sure he could put a knife between the man’s ribs and be done with things if the man proved to be any kind of a threat. 

So instead of offering a verbal response he just shrugged, cradling his coffee between his hands. The man he was speaking with raised an eyebrow at that, and Hanzo supposed he got his message across. He had an idea of where he was going, sure. But he needed to actually track his next target down. That could take weeks to isolate the target’s location, scare up floor plans of wherever they were hiding out, or to just generally watch them for any period of time. 

“I’m headin’ down towards Boston myself. Got a lot of open road ahead of me today.” The man shook his head, giving a low whistle and lifting a hand to push through his hair. It only served to knock brown strands into his face even morem making Hanzo scowl slightly. His own hair was out of his way for once in his life, thankfully. Save for his bangs, still left longer, as he wasn’t concerned enough about them to have them cut short to match the rest of his impromptu haircut. 

However, the city the man mentioned was actually quite close to his next target, making him arch an eyebrow slightly, curious. He supposed the comment was innocent, it didn’t come off as a threat in the slightest. In fact the more he forced himself to listen to the other man speak instead of just leaving, he realized the man gave off quite a warm aura. 

It was something he noticed a lot more in America, people were more openly friendly and smiled more often. It was almost frightening, and disarming to say the least. Hanzo was used to cool politeness and courtesy. Not open smiles and people wanting to strike up conversations. He was used to most people keeping to themselves. 

But not this stranger. The man fell quiet for a moment before looking back to Hanzo, obviously still curious. Hanzo could tell there were questions scratching behind the man’s teeth. He couldn’t very well be blamed. Hanzo knew he couldn’t be further out of his element, not only did he probably look out of place but he felt out of place. And if he knew anything about body language, he knew that much probably showed more than he’d like. He knew he looked uncomfortable because he always looked uncomfortable. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d even felt at home in his own skin. 

“Jesus, sorry, I’m just talkin’ at you huh? I forget I get chatty first thing, not everyone’s a mornin’ person.” The man flashed an apologetic smile his way, shaking his head and looking away. Though Hanzo had to admit, the longer he looked at the man. He wasn’t unattractive, actually he was quite easy on the eyes. Enough so that he could appreciate the other man’s looks objectively, from afar. 

“Didn’t even bother to introduce myself, my ma would have my head.” The man chuckled into his cup of coffee, before pulling a small tablet from his front pocket to look at something. Though Hanzo had actually been interested by the stranger at that point. The conversation (or rather, the other man speaking) caught his attention enough that he could focus on something instead of what had been dragging him down for months on end. 

“Well…?” Hanzo had let the silence draw out, expecting the stranger to continue after such a comment. It seemed like that was what he was leading into. But he instead had fallen quiet, looking at something on the tablet in his hand. Instead it left Hanzo with questions. Despite the fact that the stranger had apparently deemed their conversation over, judging by the surprised look Hanzo got when he spoke up. 

“Well what?” The man seemed to be recovering from his surprise, though he didn’t yet put the tablet down. At least Hanzo had some of his attention though, even if he didn’t plan on doing much with it. 

“Were you going to introduce yourself?” He arched an eyebrow, a silent inquiry. The man had lead up to that, and Hanzo was grasping onto the straws of something that kept his attention away from the slowly festering pit of self-loathing he’d let himself slide into. Even if he knew it was a bad idea. To talk to people in general. To leave an impression on anyone, leaving a trail in case someone bothered to look for him after he was done with his next target. It was a terrible idea for him to speak to anyone, to leave a mark of his presence anywhere. 

“Aw, sorry ‘bout that.” The man offered a sheepish smile, and Hanzo noticed how his eyes crinkled at the edges with it, a true smile. The fact that anyone was smiling at him was surprising enough, let alone a stranger. But he was finding more and more how strange Americans really were. 

“Name’s Jesse, Jesse McCree.” The man- Jesse, leaned forward slightly to brace his elbows against the counter. The movement made his shirt shift, tugging fabric tight against the man’s biceps as he leaned against the counter. 

Perhaps Jesse was a little more fit than he’d initially anticipated. 

Though at the other man’s look, he realized the trucker was waiting for him to introduce himself in return. That much was understandable. Hanzo knew it would be rude for him to not respond, it was only polite. And if he was striving for indifferent politeness at the very least then he should reply. 

It just begged the question, did he give his real name? Obviously not. But Hanzo couldn’t think of another name in that moment, his mind was sluggish, he hadn’t let his guard drop but he’d let his focus slip. His lack of sleep was probably to blame, the way that his nights had gone recently. He couldn’t let the silence drag on though, and ended up dropping his eyes to his coffee with a faint shrug. 

“Hanzo, call me Hanzo.” He spoke up with a quiet almost-croak. It was then that he realized how long he’d heard his name. On his own lips or anyone else’s. It felt, wrong. That name belonged to a put-together, clean-shaven young man who had himself together. If only barely held together at the seams. The name belonged to shoulder-length hair and curt greetings, it belonged to a stern but patient older brother. It didn’t feel like it belonged to him any more. 

But Jesse nodded at that, even if Hanzo caught the man’s smile faltering slightly before returning. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you then Hanzo.” Jesse offered a nod, and Hanzo ended up allowing himself to be caught up in conversation with the trucker as the sun slowly started to creep up outside the diner. It splashed warm light across the tiled floors of the diner and slowly patrons started to trickle in. It was enough that Jesse ended up moving to a bar stool only one away from Hanzo so they could keep talking. 

Any other time and Hanzo wouldn’t allow himself to be lost in something so frivolous as mindless conversation. But that was part of the perk of it. It was mindless. He didn’t have to think. He just listened to the warm rumble of Jesse’s voice as the trucker spoke of open roads and the scenery of places like Montana and the desert-like areas of America. It gave him something to focus on, something to put his attention to instead of the same routine he’d thrust himself into without even a second to breathe since his brother’s death. He just drove himself forward so he had to look back as little as possible. And a break from that routine to focus on something- someone- else was like a breath of fresh air in failing lungs. 

It seemed far too soon when Jesse’s tablet chirped at him and buzzed against the counter, presumably reminding the trucker that he needed to get moving. Much to Hanzo’s annoyance he had to force down a pang of disappointment as Jesse made a face and downed the rest of his coffee. 

“Shit, well, that went real fast huh?” The look Jesse shot him was reluctant almost. Did Jesse enjoy talking with him as well? It wasn’t like he had been a very good conversational partner. Instead he’d listened quietly while slowly working on his coffee, only offering a word every now and then. He wasn’t much one for conversation, even when he was in a good mental place. And Jesse had talked enough for the both of them. 

Hanzo wasn’t expecting to find himself wanting to follow the other man, to drown himself in Jesse’s words and let himself breathe for once. He knew he didn’t deserve such a thing, didn’t deserve such solace as he’d found in just listening to another person talk. But it was the first time in what felt like his entire life that he’d allowed himself to be truly drawn into a conversation. And he didn’t want it to end. It was enough of a distraction that he wanted to chase it, wanted to know more. 

He was intrigued by this man with calloused hands and smile lines around his eyes, entranced by the low timbre of a smoke-stained voice. Caught up by the fact that he was able to breathe listening to talk of huge open skies and empty country for miles.

“I guess this is farewell then.” Hanzo couldn’t keep the frown out of his voice, even if he cleared his throat and dropped his eyes to his now-empty mug. He could feel the ache of being alone creeping back up on him. It wasn’t something he’d noticed before. Being alone was one of the things Hanzo was used to, and he hadn’t noticed that it dug into his chest like icy fingers until the threat of his solitude returning encroached on his mind. 

Some part of him was desperate to reach out, to cling onto any hope that he may have some chance of respite in someone’s presence. But he shoved it down swiftly, forcing himself to think rationally. He didn’t belong anywhere, with anyone. He had confined himself to being alone and he was to suffer the consequences. Nobody needed to ‘save’ him, as he didn’t deserve saving in the slightest. He didn’t deserve to breathe easy, even just for the time Jesse had offered him over coffee. 

“Unless you wanna come with me, of course.” Jesse flashed a teasing grin as he stood. Though from the way his gaze lingered, Hanzo could tell there was a thread of truth in his offer. It made him hesitate. 

Rationally speaking, it was a horrible idea. He didn’t need to get involved with anyone. He was being weak and foolish for even finding any comfort in the presence of another person. It was foolish for him to even have spoken to McCree in the first place, to have given the man his name was worse. To travel with him? Hanzo couldn’t think of how he could make more of a fool of himself. Traveling with a stranger was one of the worst ideas in the book. 

But they were traveling in the same direction. 

The thought was enough to make him hesitate. It was a fair point, traveling with Jesse would save him time. And the annoyance of renting a car or taking a bus and leaving a paper trail. Realistically, who was going to question a trucker who’d already be miles out of town by the time Hanzo was finished with his work?

Hanzo realized with a jolt that Jesse was watching him expectantly, waiting for an answer to the half-phrased question. 

And once again, Hanzo found himself unable to find a truly good reason to decline the offer. 

Jesse flashed him a bright smile when he accepted, and moved to pay for both of their coffee’s before Hanzo could protest. He’d been reaching for his own wallet when Jesse handed the money to the waitress behind the counter, tip and all, earning a look from Hanzo as he reluctantly stuck his wallet back into his pocket. 

From there though, Hanzo felt a bit awkward trailing after the other man to a nearby lot where he’d parked an 18-wheeler. The thing was huge, and Hanzo found himself staring slightly as Jesse showed him the truck briefly, even opening the back cabin to show Hanzo where he spent most of his downtime. It seemed cramped but enough space for one person. 

Everything else seemed insignificant as they packed up to leave the tiny town though. Jesse stopped at the hotel long enough for Hanzo to check out and gather his things. And from there they were off. 

Hanzo found himself watching the sun creep the rest of the way over the trees as he listened to the rumble of the truck’s engine and the slight crackle of the radio every now and then. He of course, didn’t relax, he couldn’t, not even with a knife on him and the knowledge that even if the other man did turn on him that he could easily fight back. But that was how he was in every situation. 

Instead he just watched the world slide by beyond the window, and perhaps he could understand why Jesse had settled on trucking to keep himself occupied. 

It was two nights later when Hanzo was comfortable enough to have a drink with Jesse. 

They were seated in the cramped back cabin of the truck, parked in the furthermost corner of a truck stop. And Hanzo felt better than he had in a long time. Of course, if he let the silence draw out too long, or if he stopped to think at any point he was hauled back down anew. But with Jesse there to make idle conversation and to tell him about wherever they were, the man offered enough of a distraction to keep Hanzo somewhat sane. 

Enough so that he’d grown to enjoy the other man’s presence. He barely spoke to Jesse, but Jesse spoke enough that Hanzo felt like he knew the man. Jesse was a seemingly endless well of stories about his family, about trucking and whatnot that he could keep Hanzo’s attention for hours, just chatting idly as he navigated stretches of highway and occasionally weigh stations. 

The company was comfortable, and for the first time Hanzo felt like he was welcome somewhere. He was comfortable in the low light of the truck’s cabin, and he could let some of the tension run out of his shoulders as sunlight streamed across his lap and caught bright patches of yellow across the lower half of Jesse’s face, highlighting his every smile. 

He’d grown far too comfortable with Jesse, and he considered that much as he settled himself in a vinyl seat and eyed the bourbon settling in the bottom of a red plastic cup. Drinking with anyone was typically reserved for important meetings or business negotiations when he was growing up. Or it was him alone in a motel room with a bottle of cheap American alcohol. He’d never really just, had a drink with someone for the hell of it. 

Watching Jesse perched on the edge of his unmade bed with his own cup in his hands though, Hanzo yet again found himself cursing how comfortable he was around the trucker. He’d grown to see Jesse less as a potential threat, and more as a… companion. 

He didn’t dare call the other man a friend, that much was too much for him. He didn’t have friends. Jesse didn’t know him well enough for such a thing anyways. 

Though one of the things Hanzo was finding harder and harder to deny was that he did in fact find the other man physically attractive. Perhaps it could be blamed on the fact that Hanzo had never been allowed to see other people in such a light, and how long he’d spent in Jesse’s presence. 

Or maybe it was the curve of his smile, the freckles dusted across his cheeks. Or the way his biceps and shoulders stood out under his shirts when he rolled the sleeves of flannels up to his elbows on any given day.

Whatever it was, it was distracting.

Even more so when he settled in to just have a drink with the man. Jesse’s warm smiles and quiet chatter eased his nerves as usual, and in the low light of the cabin Hanzo caught himself staring more than he should have. Whether he was eyeing the way Jesse leaned on his own knees or his lazy smiles at Hanzo’s occasional comment. Jesse himself was enough to hold Hanzo’s attention. 

A casual drink soon turned into each of them having a few shots-worth of the bourbon they were drinking, and it wasn’t long into the night before Hanzo felt the haze of alcohol settling into his blood. It wasn’t what he was used to inflicting on himself, but the buzz was noticeable and the amount of alcohol he’d taken in was enough to have Hanzo trying to keep himself from staring at Jesse’s lips any time the other man spoke. 

They were already close enough, and within the somewhat cramped cabin, Hanzo could practically feel Jesse’s body heat. It was enough to be distracting as Hanzo found his mind wandering. Not something uncommon, but typically when his mind wandered it wasn’t to warm skin and strong hands. It was usually to cries of pain and blood staining pale flesh.

He hadn’t realized he’d been caught up in his thoughts until a low chuckle rumbled from McCree’s chest and he felt the table shift slightly as Jesse leaned on it from his spot on the bed. 

“What, see somethin’ you like sweetheart?” The other man’s tone was practically a pur as Hanzo met dark eyes. Normally he would have been embarrassed to be caught staring like a fool. But with the way Jesse looked at him, he wasn’t sure he needed to be embarrassed. And the idea was solidified when he saw Jesse’s gaze drag down the curve of his throat and Hanzo felt himself shudder slightly. 

Some part of him screamed for the contact, to just press himself against Jesse and let the other man have his way with his body. But some part of him, the rational part of him reminded the archer that any solace found in sleeping with the other man would be swiftly crushed the next morning when he realized what he’d done. Not to mention that such a thing was beyond shameful. 

Hanzo was no virgin, but he’d endured his father’s scathing remarks more than once, and heard the same comments from Genji. It was no way to spend one’s time. Unless it was in efforts to produce an heir. 

But Hanzo wasn’t with the clan any more, he was with some random American in the back of a large truck, returning Jesse’s stare almost warily. 

After a long moment though, Hanzo’s less-rational side pushed everything else to the back of his mind and pushed him to speak. 

“Yes, actually.” He was surprised by his own confidence as he allowed his gaze to flicker over Jesse’s features and down to his shoulders. Though his eyes returned to Jesse’s face when he saw the shadow of a wolfish smirk cross the other man’s features. 

“Darlin’ you should know you can have this whenever you please.” The comment sent a thrill down Hanzo’s spine as he shifted in his chair. It was definitely an invitation, Hanzo had been around people long enough to know when they were trying to be blatant without embarrassing themselves. 

And he knew himself well enough to know that he wanted Jesse, and in that moment all he could care about was getting his hands on the other man. 

It could be said that he initiated, but not for lack of effort on McCree’s part. All it took was Hanzo moving forward to drag Jesse into a rough kiss before he was tugged onto the bed with Jesse into a tangle of limbs. 

Jesse tasted of cheap bourbon and cigar smoke, and Hanzo couldn’t ask for better to distract himself from everything else in his life. He couldn’t think of anything but the other man when warm hands framed his waist and when he settled against Jesse’s hips, knees digging into the bed on either side of the cowboy. 

Hanzo had to hunch over to make sure he didn’t hit his head on the shelf above them, but he didn’t want to distance himself from Jesse long enough to think anyways. 

Time to think was scarce, and Hanzo was thankful for such a thing when he was pushed back into the mattress. For once he let himself relax, let himself enjoy the press of Jesse’s hips between his legs and the rough bites trailed down the curve of his neck. He allowed himself to pull Jesse closer, to tug at the other man’s clothes until they were shed and he could trail hands over the planes of Jesse’s back and shoulders. 

He was only given time to think when Jesse checked with him to make sure Hanzo really wanted what they were doing. Only to be met with a rough growl from the Shimada to get on with things. Perhaps Hanzo was harsh, he knew that much, but he didn’t want time to consider what he was doing, he wanted Jesse. 

Jesse seemed to have no problems with that. As soon Hanzo’s clothes joined the other man’s somewhere on the floor and he found himself shuddering under warm hands sliding over his body. The other man was both rough and achingly gentle in the same second and it practically gave Hanzo whiplash. Gentle hands cupping under his thighs to pull his legs up around the cowboy’s hips were a sharp contrast to teeth worrying at the skin at the crook of Hanzo’s neck. 

For once Hanzo found some way to ground himself. Maybe it was in the way Jesse pushed a growl into his skin when Hanzo tugged at his hair. Or maybe it was in how Jesse’s fingers dug into his hips when Hanzo tightened his legs around Jesse’s hips. But whatever it was, it kept Hanzo sane for a moment, for a ragged breath or more that seemed too loud in the confines of the small cabin. 

It was something to focus on, something to keep him completely occupied for a while as he allowed Jesse to take him apart. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so vulnerable around anyone, let alone in such a way. But for some reason he felt secure under the other man, not bothering to hide how he arched up to press against Jesse any time the cowboy leaned close enough for him to do such a thing. The only thing he bothered to hide were the noises struggling up his throat as he started to unravel under Jesse’s hands. And even then those were soon coaxed out as well, aided by a pair of warm lips on his own and the feeling of Jesse’s hands smoothing up his sides as the cowboy settled between his legs. 

The rasp of his breath was less noticeable against the cowboy’s skin. Even if Hanzo couldn’t choke down a thready whine against Jesse’s ear, toes curling as he wrapped his legs tighter around the other man’s hips. 

Hanzo could feel the brush of Jesse’s hair against his skin as the other man busied himself with marking up the curve of Hanzo’s neck. Hell he could feel every one of the other man’s exhales slide across sweat-slick skin, making him shiver when heat evaporated into a chill. 

Jesse’s body was startlingly warm blanketing Hanzo’s frame though. And with skin pressed to skin Hanzo only found himself shivering because of Jesse’s attention and not because of cold. He still clung to Jesse though, grounding himself in feeling the rolling shift of the muscles in Jesse’s back when the other man moved against him. Or in soft hair clutched tightly between his fingers. 

It was when Jesse’s hands slid under him, calloused fingers digging into slick skin and dragging over raised scars, that Hanzo finally properly moved up to meet Jesse. He moved to Jesse as easily as if he belonged there, the cowboy’s thick arms wrapped around his waist and back while Jesse purred obscenities into his ear. 

Belonging wasn’t something Hanzo had felt since he was still fully under his father’s control. But in Jesse’s arms, slotted firmly to the other man in the cramped space, Hanzo finally felt like he was where he was supposed to be once more. Maybe it was in how he fit against Jesse, like puzzle pieces, or maybe it was how he could feel every shift of Jesse’s body when Jesse moved against him. How Jesse’s skin nearly seemed to burn against his own, how Jesse’s mouth blazed a trail across his collar and finally back to his own lips. 

Maybe it was how Jesse fit between his legs or how he swallowed Hanzo’s desperate moans with a smooth kiss when Hanzo came apart against him, shaking and digging blunt nails into the planes of Jesse’s shoulders. 

Or maybe it was just the warmth of being so close to another person. 

It took Hanzo far too long to come down from his high, oversensitive as warm hands eased over quickly cooling skin. Normally Hanzo would have hedged away from the contact, but for the moment, he was lost in the drowsy haze of alcohol and close contact with Jesse. And instead he found himself leaning into Jesse’s hands on him. He even allowed himself to be pulled in close to a warm chest, thankful when a comforter was pulled around him to keep the chill off. 

For once Hanzo’s mind was at ease when he closed his eyes, and he allowed his guard to drop enough that he fell asleep with his head tucked into Jesse’s shoulder. 

Perhaps he didn’t belong anywhere, but maybe he could fool himself into thinking he belonged with Jesse, even for a little while.

**Author's Note:**

> That's that! Anyways feel free to leave me a comment below. I always love hearing from people so it'll probably brighten my day! And hopefully there may be another installment of this coming soon, we'll see.


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